Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Harley Quinn wants some private time with her puddin', who just isn't interested, driving Harley to seek advice from self-help books.
1. Chapter 1

**Girls Just Wanna Have Fun**

"_I come home in the morning light, my mother says when you gonna live your life right? Oh Mommy dear, we're not the fortunate ones, and girls, they wanna have fun! Oh girls just wanna have fun!_"

Joker growled, slamming the door to his study shut. Harley was singing. And although he admitted the kid had a few talents, singing was not one of them. That didn't stop her from doing it, however. In liberating Harley from the chains of sanity, he had created a bit of a monster. A sort of child-monster, who said and thought and did whatever she felt at the time, without regard for the other people around her. She was a selfish little brat, always wanting his attention, always wanting to share in his fun and his schemes, completely dependent on his will and his approval. It was pathetic really, he thought, as he focused his attention back on his latest plan to trap Batman. Imagine being that obsessed with someone. You'd have to be crazy. Especially as he rarely showed any appreciation for the things Harley did. Imagine dedicating your life to someone who seemed fairly apathetic toward you at best, and downright abusive to you at worst. Completely nuts, he thought, wondering if Batman would notice that he had got a new suit. The bloodstains and rips from their last punch-up had pretty much destroyed the last one. It looked vaguely the same, but the purple was slightly darker, and surely Bats was the kinda guy to pay attention, being the World's Greatest Detective and all…

The door was flung open as Harley strode into the room, still singing as she ran the vacuum over the floor. "_The phone rings in the middle of the night, my father yells whatcha gonna do with your life? Oh Daddy dear, you know you're still number one_," she sang, kissing Joker's forehead. "_But girls, they wanna have fun! Oh, girls just wanna have…_"

"Stop making that racket!" shouted Joker. "I can't hear myself think!"

"What?" shouted Harley, turning off the vacuum.

"I said I can't hear myself think!" he growled.

Harley stared at him for a second and then pulled her headphones out of her ears. "Sorry, what's that, Mr. J?" she asked.

"Never mind," he growled. "Just keep quiet, would ya? I'm trying to work here."

"Ok, puddin', I'll stop singing," said Harley, kissing his forehead again. She turned on the vacuum again and began running it across the floor.

"Harley, not right now!" he yelled. "Working! Quiet, get it?!"

She turned the vacuum off again. "Sorry, Mr. J," she said. "Guess I'll vacuum later. Go ahead, puddin', I'll be quiet."

He sighed and turned his attention back to his plans. Harley pulled out a rag and began dusting around the room, whistling.

"Harley…" he hissed.

"Right, sorry, Mr. J," she said. There was silence for a moment, until Harley started popping the gum she was chewing. It wasn't a constant noise, just an occasional nuisance, which made it even more irritating than the singing, whistling, and vacuuming had been.

"Harley!" he shouted, rounding on her.

"What? I'm being quiet!" she snapped, glaring at him. She blew and popped another bubble, and he grabbed her chin, forced her mouth open, and picked out the gum, throwing it into the trash.

"Now beat it!" he snapped. "You can clean in here later when I'm not trying to concentrate!"

"Aw, but I wanna be with you, puddin'," she whined, trying to embrace him. "I miss you so much when you're working - at least let me be near you. Please, puddin'? I'll be really good and quiet – you won't even notice I'm here."

Joker nodded slowly. "All right. But sit down and shut up. Find a book or something."

Harley squeaked in delight and rushed out, returning a few moments later with a book. She pulled up a chair next to him and began reading.

For a few blissful minutes, there was silence. Then Harley began making noises. Not loud or particularly annoying noises – just slight murmurings and sighs, apparently in response to her book.

"Oh, shut up, you dumb broad!" she snapped suddenly. "Either sign the contract or don't, but stop going backwards and forwards! Honestly, the portrayal of women in modern literature is shocking! You got a brain – just make a decision and go with it! You'll like being a submissive, I promise!"

"What the hell are you reading?" demanded Joker.

Harley held up the book. "Red recommended it. Said I'd like it because the girl's in kinda an abusive, sado-masochistic relationship. But she's really taking her sweet time with it, and she's all drippy and personality-less. I don't know why Red thought I could relate."

"Yeah, well, either shut your useless mouth or take _Fifty Lampshades _and beat it before I beat you!" growled Joker.

Harley sighed. "See, puddin', that's how a real man talks to a woman," she sighed. "I don't even believe this guy is a dominant – he sure don't act like it. You didn't need to make me sign a contract or anything. You just did it because you knew I would like it, didn't ya, puddin'?" she sighed, nuzzling his cheek affectionately.

"Harley, for the last time, I'm working," he growled.

"Aw, c'mon, puddin'," she breathed. "This may be a crap book, but you can't help getting some ideas from some of the erotic scenes. I can read some of it out loud if you want – there's spanking in it, and I know you love your spanking, Mr. J. You wanna spank your Harley girl hard for interrupting your work? I can find the whoopie cushion…"

He seized her around the throat. "Get lost or I'll pound your skull into the wall!" he hissed, squeezing her neck.

"Oooh, puddin'!" she giggled. "I love it when you talk like that! What else of mine are you gonna pound?"

In response, he dragged her to the door and then threw her out of the room, slamming and locking it behind her. He opened it again suddenly and Harley turned back to him hopefully, only to be greeted with her book hitting her in the face, and the door being slammed and locked again.

She sighed heavily, picking up the book and rubbing her nose tenderly. "Well, that didn't work," she muttered to herself, heading back to their bedroom and dumping the book in the trash can. She reached under the bed and pulled out a small stack of self-help books, with titles like _How To Be the Girl of His Dreams: A Woman's Guide to Making Herself Irresistable_, _101 Nights of Passion: How to Keep Him Interested Night After Night_ and _The Smart Woman's Guide to Love: How to Keep the Romance Alive in a Relationship_. Most of them were written by a Dr. Laura Stewart, who professed in her biographical blurb to be "an expert in sexual health and relationships."

"_Serenade him with a special song…be helpful around the house…try reading out erotica as a mood-setter,_" she read, and then snorted, tossing the book over her shoulder. "Yeah, if he don't throw you outta the room before you get a chance to set any kinda mood. None of this works with Mr. J," she sighed, flipping through the books sadly. "I guess I shouldn't have expected it to – Mr. J ain't like a regular guy. But it does mean I wasted about 75 bucks on them."

She sighed again and then paused at a page. "_If he seems stressed about work, try surprising him with a romantic dinner and serve it to him in some sexy lingerie or roleplaying outfit. It'll make him forget his career troubles._ I dunno," she muttered. "There ain't much that makes Mr. J forget his career, or the Bat. But it's worth a try, I guess."

She nodded firmly. "Better go shopping," she muttered, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. "Puddin'!" she called, pausing at his study. "I'm just going…"

"I said shut your goddamn face, you useless woman!" he roared, throwing open the door again and glaring at her furiously. "Do me a favor, go out and get hit by a bus, would ya, so I can finally get some work done, you worthless, annoying, utter waste of space!"

He slammed the door again. Harley smiled. "Love you too, puddin'!" she called. "Aw, the poor baby gets so stressed with work," she sighed, heading for the door. "This quiet, romantic dinner will be just what the doctor ordered."


	2. Chapter 2

Joker sighed, shoving the blueprint away from him and glancing at the clock. He did a double take, then checked his watch. "God dammit," he muttered, standing up and hurrying to the study door. "Where does the time go? And why didn't Harley let me know it was getting so late? Harley, you dumb broad, why didn't you tell me what time it…what the hell is this?"

He entered the dining room to see it dim and bathed in candlelight, illuminating a few dishes of food and a vase of flowers in the center of the table. He flicked on the lights.

"Don't do that – you'll ruin the mood!" shrieked Harley, emerging from the kitchen at that moment carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Joker stared at her.

"What the hell are you wearing?" he demanded.

"It's a French maid's outfit," she replied, modeling it for him and beaming. "Doncha like it, puddin'?"

"What are you wearing that for?" he asked.

"Well, so you could enjoy your sexy little French maid serving you dinner, and then maybe you could put some whipped cream on 'er and 'ave 'er for dessert," she murmured, raising up her lips to his.

"That's the worst French accent I've ever heard," he retorted, pushing her away. "And it's not a good night for this, Harley."

"Aw, but puddin', I got the champagne all shook up," she said, holding it to her chest. "You wanna maybe pop the cork and watch it spurt out? Reminds me of something else I can shake up for you, baby," she whispered, bringing her mouth up to his again.

"I told you, it ain't a good night for this!" he snapped, shoving her away again. "I'm expecting company!"

"Company?" she said, surprised. "Who…"

The doorbell rang at that moment. "That'll be the guys," he muttered, storming down the hall to answer it.

"Guys?" repeated Harley.

"Yeah, there's a boxing match on TV tonight," he said. "I invited some of the guys over to watch the fight on the new big screen we've stolen."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" she demanded.

"Why would you care? You ain't gonna watch the fight," he retorted, opening the door.

"Scarface!" he exclaimed, beaming and holding out his arms to greet the Ventriloquist and Scarface. "Still hanging around this loser?"

"Ain't got a choice – he's got his hand up my pants," replied Scarface. "I guess you could say he's got me by the balls."

Joker giggled. "Good gag, Scars, as usual. One day you and I should have some one-on-one time and plan some real fun."

"Hey, anytime you wanna dump this bozo in the gutter is fine with me," muttered Scarface, nodding at the Ventriloquist. "I'd fill him full of lead myself, but I ain't really got arms that work."

"I'm sure he don't mean that, Arnie," chuckled Joker. "Good to see you, as always. Come on inside."

"Woah!" exclaimed Scarface, noticing Harley. "Hello, baby! Now there's someone I wouldn't mind having her hand up my pants! Why can't you be hot like her, huh, Wesker?" he demanded, turning to the Ventriloquist. "One day I'm gonna dump you for a hot dame, you mark my words."

"Hello, Scarface," muttered Harley. "Arnie. Good to see you both."

"Hope we're not disturbing anything," said Scarface to Joker. "I'm the last guy who wants to interrupt a guy when he's got wood."

Joker giggled. "Nice one, Scars. And speaking of things that are massive, lemme show you this TV. Harley, since you're dressed for it, be a lamb and bring us some beers, would you, dear?"

He led them into the living room with Harley staring after them, seething. She stormed into the kitchen, slamming the champagne bottle down on the counter and trying to control her temper. "I guess it is my fault," she muttered. "I should have checked to see if he had plans tonight. See, this is the problem with surprising people, Dr. Stewart," she muttered, glaring at the self-help book.

The doorbell rang again and Harley went to answer it. Both of Two-Face's faces looked stunned when he saw Harley. "Um…hi, Harley," he stammered. "You're…um…expecting company, right?"

"I wasn't, no," retorted Harley. "Mr. J only informed me of his plans recently. But c'mon in, Scarface is already here."

"Harvey, second to arrive as usual!" chuckled Joker, emerging from the living room. "You never disappoint! Lemme take your coat. Harley, go hang this up. And don't forget about the beers. How ya been, buddy?" he asked, guiding him to the living room.

Harley stood holding Two-Face's coat, grinding her teeth. She threw it on the ground and then stormed back to the kitchen, trying to get her temper under control.

The doorbell rang again and she answered it. "Yes, you're expected, no, I don't normally dress like this, come in," she said, before the Penguin could say anything to her. She shoved him toward the living room and went back to the kitchen, grabbing a six pack out of the refrigerator.

"At least the h'orderves won't go to waste," she sighed, taking them from the dining room table.

"Harley! Hurry up with those beers! What the hell is taking so long?!" came Joker's shout from the living room.

Harley resisted the urge to slam the six pack into his head, and slammed it down on the table instead, doing the same with the plate of h'orderves. "Easy, slugger, you'll break the dishes," muttered Joker. "What's with the attitude?"

Harley took a deep breath. "Mr. J, can I have a quick word with you in private?" she muttered.

"The fight's about to start, kid…" he began.

"It'll just take a second," she said.

He sighed heavily and stood up. "Harvey, start taking bets, would ya? I'm putting a grand on Macnamara. Back in a second."

He followed her into the kitchen and shut the door. "What?" he asked.

"Mr. J, I dunno if you noticed, but I went through a lotta trouble to make a romantic dinner tonight so we could spend an evening with just the two of us," said Harley, trying to keep her temper.

He shrugged. "Well, sorry, kiddo, plans change. And the guys are here now. What do you expect me to do?"

"I expect you to tell them that you want to spend a quiet evening alone with your girlfriend," murmured Harley. "And to apologize for the inconvenience, but to tell them to beat it."

"But they've come all this way, Harl," he said. "That wouldn't be very hospitable, would it?"

"I don't feel like being hospitable to anyone at the moment, Mr. J," she hissed. "Except you. I've got a really strong, burning desire to be hospitable to you, if you understand what I mean."

He looked at her. "Well, we can't do it now," he retorted. "The fight's about to start. And it'd be really awkward with the guys in the next room. So why don't you just cool it, sweets, go take a cold shower or something or…oh, I know! Go read more of that _Fifty Lampshades_! That'll be a good outlet for your frustration, won't it?"

"Mr. J…"

"That's my good girl. I love you, pumpkin," he said, kissing her hastily. "Keep your ears open for if we need more snacks or drinks, won't you? Thanks, baby, you're a peach."

He hurried from the room. Harley stared after him, her entire body shaking in rage. She was this close to marching into the room, putting her fist through the TV, and screaming at the guys until they left, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. She grabbed the self-help book from the counter and threw it against the wall, then stormed into their bedroom and flung the others at the wall. It didn't particularly help her bad mood, but it was better than nothing.

She heard the guys cheering and booing from the next room, and tried to escape the noise by locking herself in the bathroom and running a nice, hot bath. After spending an hour in the warm water, she managed to get her temper under control enough to return to the living room.

"That's it! Hit him again!" Joker was shouting, crouched forward on the sofa, eyes glowing with excitement.

"Bah. Baldwin will brush off that brutish barbarian's blows, just wait and see," muttered Penguin, glaring at the screen.

"Nah, he's got him on the ropes," said Two-Face. "Macnamara's got this."

"Hope everyone's prepared to pay me my money," chuckled Joker. "Ah, pumpkin pie, there you are!" he exclaimed, noticing Harley. "I was wondering where you'd got to – why don't you find us some more beers, sweets? This won't last much longer, but I think the guys are still thirsty."

"Well, the bars are open, aren't they, Mr. J?" said Harley. "I think it might be nice if they go there after the fight's over and leave us to have a little private time. What do you think?"

"I think you're not being a very good hostess, my sweet little cupcake," he replied, kissing her nose. "Why don't you just do what Daddy tells you? Aw, yes, that's it! KO!" he exclaimed, throwing up his hands and focusing his attention back on the TV.

Harley found another six-pack and brought it out, and then sat down on one of the sofas, hoping that her presence there would wrap the evening up quicker.

It didn't. The guys did a recap of the match, then discussed sports in general, the history of boxing, and whether Macnamara could beat Batman in a fistfight. Throughout which Harley didn't say a word, but sat glaring at Joker.

Several hours later, the guests finally left. "It's been fun, guys – we'll do it again sometime!" chuckled Joker, waving them off. He shut the door and turned to Harley, smiling.

"Well, what a good night, huh, baby?" he asked. "I'm several grand richer anyway, so that's always a plus. But now bedtime, don't you think, pooh bear?"

Harley sighed in relief. It was about time. "Sure thing, Mr. J," she murmured, grinning at him.

He pulled her into the bedroom and kissed her before heading into the bathroom. Harley rushed to change into a nice piece of lingerie she had bought earlier today for just such an occasion. She pulled it on and then climbed into bed, putting the covers over herself so Mr. J could slowly pull them off.

She was surprised when he emerged from the bathroom dressed in his pajamas. "Aw, look at my little baby all tucked up in bed! Ain't you just a picture?" he murmured, climbing into bed and kissing her. "Goodnight, my precious pumpkin. See you tomorrow."

He flicked off the light and rolled over. Harley stared at him. "Um…Mr. J?" she began.

"What is it, cupcake?" he asked, yawning. "Daddy's had a long day and he's tired."

"Well, I just thought…maybe we could…have a little private time," she murmured.

"You still on about that?" he asked. "Thought you took a cold shower, Harley. Anyway, I'm tired, like I said. We'll do it later, hmm? Just go to sleep now, like a good girl."

She gaped at him, feeling her fury returning. She was incredibly tempted to start either screaming at him, beating him, or both. But she knew it wouldn't do any good.

She rolled over, her arm hanging over the bed and seizing one of the self-help books. She began ripping the pages out slowly.

"Can you stop making noise, pooh? Daddy's trying to sleep."

"Sure, puddin'," whispered Harley, glaring into the darkness.

"That's my girl. I love you, Harley."

He rolled over to kiss her again, and Harley sighed. "I love you too, puddin'," she muttered. And she did. She had to, to put up with all the crap she put up with. And she wasn't even rewarded for it. Sometimes, she thought, rolling over, sometimes she felt she was positively ill-used.


	3. Chapter 3

Harley slammed the books down on the counter firmly. "Hi. I'd like a refund on these, please," she said.

The cashier looked from her to the battered and damaged books, and then back. "I'm sorry, madam, but these really aren't in a suitable condition to be returned…"

"They don't work," interrupted Harley. "They're faulty goods. You get to return stuff if it's faulty, because it ain't my fault it don't work, it's yours. So gimme my money back."

"Um…this store doesn't personally guarantee results from…" he began.

"Well, somebody does!" interrupted Harley. "See this label on this book, pal? _Guaranteed to Increase your Sexual Fulfillment_. Well, without getting too personal, I ain't anymore sexually fulfilled than when I bought it! In fact, I ain't been properly sexually fulfilled for too damn long! And that tends to drive a gal crazy, so just gimme the money back before I go a little insane and start shooting up this store!"

"Um…if you'd like to take it up with the author, she's visiting in store today," said the cashier, terrified, pointing to the other end of the bookstore. "She's signing her newest book…"

"Thanks," interrupted Harley, heading over to where Dr. Laura Stewart was signing books in front of a long line of people. "Move it, losers, it's an emergency!" snapped Harley, shoving her way to the front. "Hi, Dr. Stewart?"

"Yes…er…hello…Miss…" stammered Dr. Stewart.

"Actually I'm a doctor too. Dr. Quinzel," said Harley, holding out her hand. "Pleased to meetcha. But call me Harley, everyone does."

"Um…ok…Harley," said Dr. Stewart, shaking her hand. "How can I help you?"

"See, that's what I've been wanting to ask you, Doc," she said. "I've read all your books, and tried all your tricks, but my boyfriend still ain't all that interested in revving my engine. He don't respond well to the stuff in your books, and I was just wondering if you had any other tips for, y'know, special guys."

"Special…how?" asked Dr. Stewart, puzzled.

"Well, y'know, for guys who are different," replied Harley. "My boyfriend's a real unique man, a genius really, so a lotta the time he ain't interested in physical stuff. Plus he's kinda obsessed with his work and setting traps for a guy in a costume. But a gal has needs, y'know? And as much as I love him, sometimes I think I'll go crazy if he don't just take me hard. But he always puts this other guy first, beating him up and making plans with him. You gotta help me make him be more interested in me."

"Well…Harley…" began Dr. Stewart, slowly. "I think if your boyfriend keeps putting a man in front of you, and shows little to no interest in intimacy with you, it can mean only one thing. But it's a truth you might not want to hear, and might find hard to accept."

"What?" asked Harley, puzzled.

"Well…it means he might…prefer the company of men," she replied, slowly.

Harley looked blankly at her. She cleared her throat. "He might not be…interested in women," she said, pointedly.

"I don't want him to be interested in women, just in me," snapped Harley.

"But it seems like he might not…want that," she said, slowly.

"Yeah, I know, which is why I'm asking you for help," retorted Harley. "Geez, Doc, you're kinda dense, ain't ya?"

"I trying to suggest that he might be gay," she said.

"Well, he is a happy guy, being a clown and all," agreed Harley. "But I don't understand what that's got to do with him not wanting me."

"I'm saying he's a homosexual, Harley," said Dr. Stewart.

Harley stared at her. "Homosexual?" she whispered, slowly, her eyes narrowing. "My puddin' ain't a homosexual! He loves his Harley girl lots and lots! Get it, Doc?! His Harley _girl_! Jesus, you don't understand the situation at all! If you're too thick to get it when I've explained it to ya, I'm just gonna have to show it to ya. Come with me."

"I'm not…" began Dr. Stewart, but Harley suddenly pulled a gun out, aiming it at her forehead.

"I said come with me," she hissed.

Dr. Stewart had never imagined that writing relationship self-help books would lead to her being held hostage in a mall by an insane woman. Nor had she imagined that she would be forced by that same woman to crawl through vents to get out of the mall at the back while the police and security waited at the front. Nor had she imagined that she would be taken to a hideout where this insane woman hid from the police with her no doubt equally insane boyfriend. But it was only when she entered the hideout that she realized who that boyfriend was.

"Pumpkin pie, there you…who's this?" asked the Joker,

"Dr. Laura Stewart, Mr. J," said Harley, introducing them. "Dr. Stewart is here to help with our relationship, puddin'."

"Oh…my…God!" stammered Dr. Stewart, terrified.

"Well, that's very flattering, Dr. Stewart, I didn't realize I had worshippers!" chuckled Joker. "Although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that people mistake me for God. But I don't understand, pooh, our relationship doesn't need any help."

"Yeah, it does, Mr. J," replied Harley, firmly. "You've been ignoring my womanly needs lately, and that's very damaging to our relationship. Dr. Stewart says that a regular sex life is an important part of all relationships, don't ya, Doc?"

"I…um…"

"Seems to me you shouldn't generalize about all relationships, Doc," retorted Joker. "I mean, surely all relationships are different because all people are different, right? And what's right for some people won't be right for others."

"Well…I…"

"But it's right for me, Mr. J, and you should be more considerate of my needs instead of always putting yourself and Batman first."

"I thought you loved me for who I am, Harley."

"I do, puddin', but you could just be a little more caring…"

"I ain't gonna be something I'm not. You should admire that honesty, baby, it's real important in a relationship, ain't that right, Doc?"

"Well…um…"

"Look at it this way, pumpkin. I could pretend to be interested in that when I'm not, but then wouldn't you just feel used? At least you know when I want you, I really do want you, because it happens so rarely."

"Yeah…I guess…" began Harley.

"And I've just finished plotting out my latest trap for Bats, and I was coming to find you to make up for all the playtime you've lost by being such a sweet, patient girl. But it would be really awkward for us to do that when the Doc's here…"

Harley shoved Dr. Stewart toward the door. "Hang on a minute, pumpkin," Joker murmured, grinning. "Wouldn't you rather get Daddy in the mood?"

Harley giggled. "Thanks, Doc," she said. "You're really gonna help our relationship after all."

She shot her in the head and then turned to smile at Joker. "Come to Daddy, baby," he murmured, holding open his arms.

Harley squeaked and ran to him. "You're a silly girl, Harley Quinn," he murmured. "Always making mountains outta molehills."

"I know," she whispered. "I'm a really silly girl, and I should be happy with what I got, because it's a helluva lot. I love you, puddin'."

He kissed her. "C'mon now, baby, let's have some fun," he murmured, pulling her into the bedroom.

Ill-used, thought Harley. Maybe. But she liked it that way.

**The End **


End file.
